The Upset GI Joe

Playing "Guns"

In this dream, I was a lovable, grizzled member of GI Joe. Bearded of course, probably a sergeant of some kind. And definitely a rebellious type. We’d just been assigned a new leader – called “The Lieutenant” who looked a lot like Peter O’Toole in Lawrence of Arabia. He’d set up new units for everyone based on function and attack plan – like “first to parachute in,” to which I’d jokingly said, “I hope I’m not in that one!”

After telling us that he’s made these new units, he said we’d have to go look them up on the computer. It turns out this computer was ancient – though we didn’t come to this conclusion until later.

The terminal kept going through a slide show of different units – like the afore mentioned “first to parachute in” – but it never listed the people in the unit. I tried to fiddle with the knobs on the computer, to no avail. Then, I used my pocket radio to call on my fellow GI Joes and said, “send in the computer nerd!”

The computer nerd of the unit came in, and opened up a floor panel to check out the computer. It was then that we realized that the computer took up the entire room. Thus that is was old. Most all of the GI Joes were milling around the computer room at this point – though I only remember being able to pick out that first series red-headed one with the cross bow, Scarlett.

After taking awhile, people were grumbling, and I’ve decided this is absurd. I’ll just go ask the lieutenant for a print out to Xerox, I said. So I walk over to his office. The hallways were that dull, fabric of cubical walls, except floor to ceiling, real walls. Even the door to the lieutenant’s office was made of the fabric wall, which I managed to peek through and noticed that the lieutenant was having a meeting.

I straightened out my jacket, making sure to take my left hand out of my pocket – my left arm was strangely immobile, and knocked on the door, saluting when the lieutenant answered.

He had a smallish table of people – many wearing thick tweed-ish stuff and fedora like hats, all hounds-toothed out – sort of old school British hunting style. The lieutenant and I stood in the back of the room, towards the door.

“We’re having some difficulty with the computer,” I probably said. “Could we get a print out to Xerox?”

And then there was some pleasant exchange with the lieutenant trying to get me to use the computer, and he finally said, forcefully “use the computer.” Because I’d been hassling him so much about the computer not working, he must have said something about the GI Joe unit not being professional enough, and that’s why he was here, in charge now. At least, in the dream, that’s how I took his comment.

At that point, my bearded GI Joe avatar started yelling at the lieutenant and I could feel a sense of relief, kind of like, “ahh, that’s more like it!”

“Who saved the world last year, and in 2008, and the year before that?” I yelled at him grabbing his lapel. And so on. I yelled about how great the GI Joe unit was, wrapping up with something like, “so just get us the damn print out!” and stormed out of the room.

Walking back to my fellow GI Joe’s across a room that looked like a Westernized dojo I was smiling to myself. I woke up.

Laying in bed on what was now early Sunday morning – around 8:20am – I thought this character would certainly be busted down to private. Under the leadership of this lieutenant GI Joe would get into some tough spot, causing the removal of the lieutenant. At some point, someone would visit me and say, “we need you back sergeant,” and then I’d be back with full rank, ready to work. I’m guessing they found that print-out somewhere.